He looked very sincere.

“Thanks.” I forced a laugh I didn’t quite feel. “I guess it worked, right?”

“Yeah, but working isn’t everything,” he said with a small, lopsided grin.

My answering smile felt a little more genuine. “I’m glad you think that.”

In truth, I wanted to forgive him. It would help a lot if I could like at least one of these people I’d been thrown in with.

After a few seconds of more companionable silence, he said, “Hey, mind if we go back and chat with Bob a little more? I don’t want to leave on a bad note.”

“Sure, I guess.”

The snowman still made me nervous.

We headed back to the tree. Bob was looking dejected, but he perked back up when he saw us. We spent fifteen minutes making somewhat awkward small talk. He did seem like a nice enough … person? I wasn’t sure how to think of him. Definitely not an animal, though it was beyond weird to converse with something so large and furry. He did have beautiful eyes — big and dark and expressive.

He asked me to come by and talk with him again soon.

“I look forward to getting to know you, Miss Ryder,” he said. “I have lived here a long while, watching but never mingling. Sometimes I grow forlorn.”

“Why don’t you go home?” I asked.

Graham gave my arm a little squeeze, as though I shouldn’t have asked that.

Bob didn’t seem offended, though. He just sighed and said, “There are reasons I cannot.”

Poor guy. He was lonely. The idea of visiting him alone sort of gave me the willies, but I said I would and that I was looking forward to speaking with him again.

We said our goodbyes, and he trundled off into the darkness. Graham and I headed back to the car. He told me I’d handled the conversation well.

“You notice how he didn’t call you by your first name? Seconds tend to be pretty formal, compared to contemporary American manners. It isn’t wise to be impolite when speaking to them, even if it’s a friendly one like Bob.”

Thanks for telling me that beforehand, I thought to myself.

“If they’re so formal, why is it okay to call him ‘Bob’?”

“We couldn’t possibly pronounce his real name — the ice men are capable of making a number of sounds we can’t. He probably chose an F-Em name that was short and simple out of courtesy to us.”

We got in the car and headed back toward Callie’s.